


The perils of love and war.

by Charles Edward Stewart (eddiecharlesstewart)



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Battle, Holy war, Knight! Percy, Love, M/M, Smut, Squire! Nico, The Great siege of Malta., War, almost historically acurate, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 15:44:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3452786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eddiecharlesstewart/pseuds/Charles%20Edward%20Stewart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Percy a disgraced Knight is called upon to defend malta from the foes of christendom. Nico is to be his squire. Feelings are developed in the face of overwhelming odds and in the shadow of death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The perils of love and war.

It was a bitter February morning in England. The mist hung like devils breath in the upland valleys and blanketed the moors in silence and murk. In a rather meagre manor house, by the standards of Elizabethan England, Sir Percy Jackson, formerly Knight of the Order of the Knights of St John, sat alone before the fire. His mind drifted like a boat in the choppy seas of the med, as he stared into the fires glowing depths, he remembered the baking sun, the sparkling seas and the rugged rocky lands of Malta, the home of the Order. He remembered his old friend, Lover and eventual betrayer Sir Luke Castellan. One of the few Englishmen in the Catholic order, Luke and Percy had been firm friends, the younger holding Luke in a form of hero worship, these feelings drifted into something more. After many days in each other’s company, living always in the shadow of death, they grew more intimate. Until, in the incriminating throws of passion, they were caught. Percy, the junior knight took the fall, he was disgraced, exiled and worst of all betrayed. His old friend and superior, Chiron, a member of the Orders inner council, promised that he would that when the time was right he could return. That was six years ago. Six years as a mercenary knight for hire, wandering war torn Europe for money. Percy was now 18.

Percy was awoken from his thoughts by the sound of his steward hobbling into the room.  
“There’s a man at the door, a foreigner, he demands to see you” the wizened old steward said, a hint of suspicion in his eyes.  
“Show him in” Percy said, his voice brooking no complaints.  
The steward shuffled off.  
Moments later a tall man in the fine clothes of the gentry strode in.  
“Sir Percy?” the Man said smoothly with a hint of the ascent of Gascony in his voice. He was tall, darkish skinned, compared to an Englishman; his tabard bore the emblem of the Order, The cross of St John.  
“I am he” Percy said in his best impression of a booming voice, his eyes alight with amusement, sparkling blue-green in the firelight.  
“I am ordered by the Grand Master, Chiron, to request you return to Malta for the defence of the Order,” the young man said in a rather officious tone.  
“Why?”  
“The Sultan Suleiman gathers forces in Constantinople, Syria and Cairo and many ports in between, he intends, according to our spies, to wipe the Order From the face of the earth. We need ever Knight we can get. Even you” this was said with a harsh glare, bordering on distain towards the end.  
“Well I don’t quite see why I should go to the aid of those who exiled me” Percy said, quietly, his eyes burning with an intense hatred, an indignant pout crossing his lips.  
“Chiron said you would say this, he also said you were perhaps the most loyal man alive, he believes you will come out of honour, pride and to regain the life you lost, and you are still after all a Knight of the Order.”  
“Alright, Alright, I’ll come; don’t get your undergarments in a twist.” Percy growled.  
With a bow of respect and a few murmured pleasantries, the Knight left. Percy sat in deep thought.  
A messenger arrived, from the Queen’s agent in London. Percy had to answer the summons, as a Catholic, in the Protestant state, his life hung on desperately thin threads without pissing off the royalty. Percy loaded his armour and weapons into his pack, along with rations of food and a coin chest. He left his steward with instructions for running the estate, then he strode to the stables and leapt onto his horse before riding off, to London.

It took a day and a bit to arrive in the capital. Percy immediately reported to the house of the Queen’s agent, a man called William Cecil. He was ushered inside. In a grand library, he met the man. He was of average height, heavy set with cold piercing eyes. He was informed that the court knew of the Orders Summons. They had decided this was a perfect opportunity for them to retrieve a document stolen by a Knight of the Order who was long since deceased. All Percy was told was that the document had to be retrieved at all costs, or lives of thousands in England would be lost in civil war. A man, rather a boy, was ushered in from the shadows in the far corner of the room. He was short, below shoulder height on Percy, about 13/14 years old, with tanned skin and deep dark eyes that twinkled with concealed amusement.  
“This Is Nico Di Angelo, he will be your squire, and our agent.” Cecil said.  
The young boy stepped forward and bowed almost respectfully.  
“A pleasure to meet you sir” the boy said, his voice betraying it was anything but. It was a pleasant voice however, Percy decided, with a ring of Italian in its rolling tone.  
“Are you trained?” Percy asked quietly, running appraising eyes over the boy’s slender, yet fairly wiry frame, from slender legs to the dark eyes hidden among a nest of wild curly black hair.  
“Yes, sir” the boy said in a tone of restrained indignation. “I speak Italian, Spanish, Latin and English, can fence, lock-pick and have been instructed by the lords squire in my future duties.”  
Percy cast an appraising glance at the boy once more. “Well you seem to be better trained than I, as long as it is for the benefit of the country, I ascent to this mission.”  
“If you complete it within a few months you will be able to escape before the Turks arrive” Cecil said.  
“If the young lad wants to leave the island once the mission is over, I will help him on his way, I shall stay.”  
“What, but that means certain death, surely a man of your status must not wish to lose his life for a futile cause?” Cecil cried.  
“I will fight, and god willing we will win. If not I will die, my honour returned and my duty done” Percy said in a quiet yet determined tone.  
“A noble corpse” Cecil snorted in derision.  
“You perhaps underestimate the prowess and experience of my brother Knights”  
“No army, especially not your antiquated gang of Greybeards could withstand the concentrated and determined assault of the vast hordes of the Sultan.” Cecil spluttered.  
“Well, fate is inexorable” Percy said with a tone of weary finality…

 

It was three weeks later; Percy sat on a narrow bed in the billet of a Spanish naval barrack. On the bed beside sat Nico, his eyes hauntingly illuminated in the dancing light of the fire, as Percy sat in silence observing his squire as the young boy rested. They were waiting in the Spanish port to join the fleet sent to Sicily to oppose the Turks. Nico had acted rather abruptly, cold and distant when they first men. Over the weeks of companionship on their travels across the channel and the Bay of Biscay Percy had warmed to the boy and Nico was decidedly less frosty than he once appeared. Nico laid, his eyes closed, on his bed. Beside him the freshly polished armour of Sir Percy lay.  
Percy quietly stood from his bed. He padded over to the bed where Nico slept. He gently picked up the armour, resting it on the floor then pulled a blanket over the young boy, tucking him in to ensure the younger remained warm in the draft ridden quarters of the port. Percy cursed his sentimentality, and the flutter in his chest he felt when his eyes met those deep, haunting pools of his squire.  
Nico kept his eyes closed as his Knight, Percy, tucked the blanket around him. The man was an enigma. He was nothing like how Sir William had described the Catholic Knights. This man was kind, gentle, honourable and loyal to a fault, a point proven when Percy had saved Nico from a flogging for disrespecting an official on the crossing. Percy had confronted the tyrannical official and the man, seeing the harshness in the eyes of the Knight had backed down. Nico had never seen anything as changeable and entrancing as Percy's eyes. One minute they were a shimmering, sparkling sea green, the next they were turned into pools of stormy grey turmoil like the sea in a violent storm. Nico found himself staring if he did not check himself. There was something in Percy that Nico not only admired, but adored. The knight was no paragon of the disciplined, officious and arrogant knights of the court. He was like a puppy, one minute almost cute, cuddly and pouting like a child, the next he could be riled up, standing protective as a guard dog, brave and glorious in his resplendent shinning war gear. Nico had to admit he had fallen for the elder.

It was another three weeks that the fleet arrived on Malta.  
Percy rushed ashore ahead of their host in the fleet, Don Garcia, Nico stumbling along in tow, as he rushed into the bear hug of another knight. The Knight was tall, with tanned skin and a wispy goatee. Nico's eyes shot jealous daggers at the older Knight. Percy stepped away.  
“This is Grover Underwood, my old friend; This, Grover, is my Squire, Nico di Angelo.” Percy said his face alight with excitement, his hands gesturing with an overactive fluttering.  
“Percy my old chum, it’s good to see you well. And you too young Nico” the knight said kindly, with a slight sparkle in his eyes as he looked between Nico and Percy.  
“Is that really you? Sir Percy” said a voice from behind them.  
Percy turned to see the source of the voice he remembered from so long ago.  
“Chiron!” he practically yelled.  
“Yes my boy” the elderly man cried back, dragging the young Knight into a crushing hug.  
“Your grand master I hear.” Percy said suddenly.  
“Yes my boy, though I see these days ahead will be the greatest trial of my leadership and the strength of the order that we have ever faced.” Chiron said, his face turning darker.  
“What about Luke?” Percy said quietly, his voice deep with foreboding.  
Nico stepped forward and curled an arm around Percy's back to comfort his friend. Chiron looked on with amusement as Percy leant into the touch.  
“Well, it turns out look was a traitor. He led a patrol of our ships to an ambush, when we went to clear his quarters, fearing him lost, we discovered messages written in Arabic, the devils tongue, and the Suleiman’s gold. Curse him by god I do!” Chiron grumbled darkly.

 

Percy then led Nico of to the quarters of the English knights on the island. Percy watched in amusement as Nico gently and carefully laid out Percy’s armour on the chest in their shared room. Percy had received from the grand master his old chest, from before his exile. Inside was a fist full of coins, his old tunic embossed with the orders emblem, Chiron had given him a new one on his arrival, a gold signet ring inscribed with his families crest, and a suit of Milanese armour, many sizes too small for him from when he was a boy. Percy looked from the contents of his chest back to the younger boy.  
“Nico” he called.  
“Yes, Percy” Nico replied.  
“Come over hear a minute” Percy said gently, patting the bed beside him.  
Nico walked over, sitting down beside the older boy and leaning against him, looking into the others eyes with curiosity.  
“I wish to give you some things” Percy said with a cough of embarrassment.  
Nico looked into the chest.  
“My old armour, it should fit you, it is of the finest Milanese making, I hope it will keep you safe if you are trapped in the siege or if you escape. My old tunic, so while you are here you will not be questioned on your mission as you go about. And my families signet ring. I heard from Cecil of the… circumstances of your… ehmm, birth.”  
“I’m a Bastardo” muttered bitterly.  
“So I thought that, with your approval, I might give you this as a symbol of you joining my family, as a brother of sorts. So when you return to England, you will always receive the help of my people and kin, if I am to die here, then you will inherit my estate, if you are so willing.” Percy said this in an rambling rush, his face glowing in a ridiculous blush.  
Nico looked at Percy in shock.  
Percy lent forward and pressed a chaste kiss to Nico's soft lips. This drew a moan from the smaller boy. Percy giggled slightly then dove in, deepening the kiss, his tongue exploring then mouth of his squire who turned into jelly in his arms. Percy nuzzled into the nape of Nico’s neck making the smaller boy shudder and writhe. Then Percy ran warm hands over cold ribs, down the boy’s torso to rest on his skinny sharp angular hips. Nico squealed an unmanly cry before coughing hollowly to mask his embarrassment. The boys continued exploring each other for what seemed like an age. Only when the younger boy began to softly snore did Percy gently lay him down on his bunk and pull the covers over them, turning and curling around his squire as he too fell into the embrace of dreams.

Percy awoke to the sounds of trumpets blaring from the fort St Elmo across the great harbour, a tone of alarm carried by buglers in the fort St Angelo and across the island. Percy scrambled out of bed, Nico hurrying behind him as they donned armour and the tunics bearing the orders insignia, the cross of Saint John.  
Percy marched from their quarters, Nico in tow, out of the English knights’ barracks, out of the fort, to the great walls of the islands capital Birgu. From there they stared across the harbour to the vast openness of the Mediterranean. On the horizon a flurry of white could be seen, like a gathering storm cloud, grew however until a line of sails stretched across the horizon, from edge to edge, a chaos of sails, a buzz of white sails, the garish colourful banners and the dark decks, banked with oars, of the sultans fleet.  
“Well from now I guess there will be no escape.” The wizened voice of Chiron could be heard from further along the battlements.  
Percy looked to Nico, sadness clouding his once sparkling eyes.  
“I would not have left you, even if I could” Nico murmured, his eyes alight with adoration for Percy.  
From behind them a knight hawked up a blob of spit, throwing it at the Percy’s feet.  
“I wished never to see you again, dishonourable cur” the voice said harshly. A tall, broad knight stood glaring at Percy, hatred dancing in his eyes like a flame. “An abomination like you has surely cursed our cause!”  
“Sir --- Octavian, I feared some would remain as vindictive as you” Percy said with a tone of restraint, his teeth grating together as his jaw clenched in irritation.  
Another night shouldered up to them. He was tall, blonde, with features sculpted like a roman statue.  
“Piss off, Octavian” the knight said, his eyes narrowed like daggers as he glared balefully at his fellow knight.  
The offending knight stormed off.  
“Percy my friend, it’s been too long.” The blonde cried.  
“Jason, I could say the same”  
“You must know, I did try to prevent your exile, I protested the sentence, along with Grover, Travis, Conner, Frank and Leo. We never betrayed your secret before, and we have all tried earnestly to force them to allow you to return.” The blond said, his eyes pleading vehemently for Percy to understand.  
“I know you would remain loyal. We were the great seven, undefeatable, loyal and true!”  
“It was those bastards Zeus, Ares, Dionysus as well as Octavian, Alabaster, Ethan and pretty much all of their stupid cronies wouldn’t allow it. And you know a sentence cannot be overturned without a 2/3 majority or as now, a crisis. The same bastards wouldn’t believe of their precious Luke’s betrayal until our spies confirmed it for the third time. Pricks.” Jason said darkly. “Poseidon, Apollo, Hades, Hephaestus, Hermes and the old guard all supported your claim though.”  
Percy turned to Nico. “Poseidon was my Knight, when I was a squire, as well as being my father, Hephaestus was Leo’s, Hermes was Conner’s and Travis’s, Zeus was Jason here’s and Ares was Frank’s, though as you can tell those last two hate their old masters. Hades doesn’t take squires”  
Nico listened with interest when he heard Hades name.  
“He was my father” he murmured quietly.  
Percy pulled Nico into the privacy of one of the great towers of the wall.  
“I thought so, you have his look about him, when I remember it there was a degree of controversy when I first arrived all those years ago about Hades falling in love but being forced by the order to bastardise and abandon the child. Do you want to meet him? I know from my father that he keeps a small portrait of you by his bed.” Percy said quietly, looking Nico in the eyes.  
“………Err… Yes, I think…. It would be good to see him” Nico whispered into Percy's chest, nuzzling into the taller boys neck as he stood on tip toes, hands clasped around Percy's neck. Percy bent down and pressed a kiss to Nico's brow.  
“Okay, my love, only if you’re ready” Percy murmured.  
Nico nodded his ascent.

 

It was the next day when orders arrived for Percy and Nico to lead a patrol to harry the enemy landings. They donned armour and at the head of a column of horsemen, resplendent in their shining mail, banners flying in the wind, they rode from Birgu, across the barren interior of the island towards the shores where at that very moment boats filled with the sultans troops drew towards the shore.  
The knights arrived to catch the enemy in a state of disarray. Men, horses and equipment were being hauled from the crafts beached on the shore. The enemy sentries were swept aside as the knights lowered their lances and charges with cries of: “For God and Saint John”, “Death to the pagans”, “down with the despot” and “for Christendom” . The enemy reeled back in shock, falling beneath the sharpened lances and thundering hooves of the knights Hospitallers charge. Cries and screams of pain and terror as well as wails to Allah, were heard by the knights as the stormed across the beach, cutting down the infidel in their path. Percy pulled out of the fighting to gain a better view of the battle play, the enemy were beaching more ships by the moment, and in minutes the knights would be overpowered and surrounded.  
Percy turned to Nico who he had insured was by his side throughout.  
“Sound the recall” he cried.  
Nico raised the horn to his lips. The haunting bray of the horn sounded across the battlefield, above the cacophony of steel on steel.  
The knights broke from the fighting, reeling their mounts from the fray of the sultans troops. With a few quickly shouted orders the column rode to safety, away from the beach and the crumpled remains of the Turkish first wave.

 

When they returned to St Angelo Percy led Nico to their quarters. Food was delivered by servants and the two ate in companionable silence.  
“That was my first fight” Nico murmured.  
“I know. That’s why I kept you beside me.” Percy replied.  
“Well… thank you” Nico whispered.  
Percy lent across and pressed a chaste kiss to Nico's soft pink lips, brushing ebony locks from afore the boys eyes as he stared into the dark depths. Nico gasped in pleasure and Percy deepened the kiss, pressing Nico back onto the bed and plundering the smaller boys tight wet mouth with his tongue. Nico moaned wantonly. Percy's hands ran down Nico's back, along a slender, to land on Nico's perk arse. Percy squeezed gently drawing a cry from Nico.  
Percy withdrew and the boys began hurriedly tearing their clothes off, desperate in their bid for closeness. Percy's hands ran once more down Nico's now naked frame. He squeezed the boys arse, his fingers slipping between the boy’s cheeks to caress the boys pulsing and tight hole. Nico's face contorted into a grimace, a tear slipped from between clenched eyes. Percy continued burrowing his fingers deeper until he brushed a bundle of nerves within Nico. The younger boy gave out a wanton moan and grabbed Percy tightly by the shoulders, pulling him deeper. Percy began to pump his fingers into Nico, loosening the boy.  
When Percy deemed Nico prepared he removed his fingers, spat on his palm and used the saliva to slick his cock. He grasped his member and lined it up with Nico's empty hole. Nico whined pitifully at the emptiness until he gasped as he felt Percy's thick cock brush his entrance.  
Percy looked deeply into Nico's eyes, awaiting the youngers go ahead. Nico gave a slight nod.  
Percy thrust forwards, impaling the boy on his 8’’ dick. Nico's eyes widened at the sudden intrusion. The feeling of being stretched to wide was alien to him. The smaller boy shuddered as he was almost ripped apart down there. He could see in the tight skin of his stomach, Percy's cock creating a bulge.  
Percy stopped once fully sheaved within the boy’s tight hot embrace. He gave Nico a moment to adjust then gently rolled his hips, drawing a moan from Nico. He began to work up a rhythm, first shallow, gentle thrusts, turning into deep harsh thrusts as Percy began to slam into his squire, the sound of flesh on flesh echoing around the small chamber.  
Nico felt himself being fucked into the mattress; Percy was throwing his full weight behind his brutal thrusts. Nico wiggled his hips, trying to keep Percy buried within him, while enjoying the sweet drag of Percy's cock against his velvety inner walls. Strong hands gripped his hips bruising the pale flesh, Nico moaned again at the feeling of being totally dominated, controlled, safe and protected.  
Nico gave an embarrassing cry as he came. Muscles clenching around Percy's massive manhood.  
Percy continued to thrust into Nico as the boy became limp and malleable in post orgasmic bliss.  
It took but a few erratic thrusts into Nico's clenched arse before Percy came, flooding Nico's insides with his cum.  
Percy turned around, pulling Nico on top of him, his cock still buried in the smaller boy. He pressed a kiss to Nico's nose. The younger boy groaned softly. Percy pulled the blankets over them and fell asleep, the younger boy still atop him.

 

That morning they were once again awoken to the sounds of the trumpeters calling the alarm. As the rushed to dress, Nico had no time to remove Percy's cum from his arse and as he pulled on his breeches and tunic, the older night smiled at the stain seeping from Nico's abused arse.  
“Pervert.” Nico muttered with mock anger.  
“You like it, every knight and squire in the land knowing you’re mine” Percy retorted smugly.  
Nico could only blush. He had to admit he loved the feeling of belonging, the smell of Percy’s sweat on his person, the bruises on his narrow hips and, dare he admit it, the cum dripping from his rosy red abused arse.  
The boys donned armour and ran to the walls. From their vantage point, alongside almost all the residents of Birgu, Knight and Squire, Maltese militiamen and Mercenaries, peasants and nobles, the could see the armies of the sultan Suleiman advance of fort St Elmo, across the bay. Cannons roared and the haunting bray of Turkish horns could be hears from across the great harbour.  
Men watched in horror as rank upon rank of Turks advanced upon the fortress of the Order. The assault on the fort was obscured from view by a hellish cloud of smoke and flames.

The defenders of Birgu departed from the ramparts in low spirits.

The next day the smoke cleared and despite the sporadic dust clouds thrown up by the cannons of the Turk, St Elmo was unobscured. It could clearly be seen, the banner of the Knights of St John did fly above the fort still.

The fort held out for two weeks.

When it finally did fall the defenders of Birgu and St Angelo had a grand stand view. Cannons flared once more and the walls of the fort, long since reduced to rouble, were shattered into dust. Ranks of men, waving the silken banners of the Turk advanced upon the fort. Flames erupted from the fort as the defenders threw Greek fire at the enemy. The Turk’s advanced still. Cries could be heard as the fort’s defenders were put to the sword. The orders banner fell from the highest tower of St Elmo. The smell of burning flesh hung in the air.

Percy and Nico watched with tear stained cheeks as the mutilated bodies of the Knights of St Elmo washed ashore the following day.

Chiron ordered the captive Turks be taken to the walls. Almost one hundred men were beheaded. The walls were stained crimson and scarlet by the blood of the enemy. The brutality sickened Nico who buried his head in Percy's chest.

 

The following day a Turkish herald announced that from now on no quarter would be asked for or given.

 

Days later the guns of Turk faced Birgu and its fort, St Angelo. Women shrieked and dogs howled as the cannon balls tore through the city, turning homes and halls into rouble and splinters. The great walls of the city were reduced to grit and dust within a month. The barrage of missiles turned the defenders into living dead. People devoid of life, surviving in the moment, unable to plan ahead due to the impending threat of death.

 

Percy and Nico stood side by side on the barricade behind the destroyed walls on the day of the Turkish final assault. Percy as the only knight still uninjured hefted the orders banner in one arm, his sword in the other. Nico held a shield slightly in front of both of them, trying in vain to hide them from the enemy’s eyes. The barricade was lined with the walking wounded and hundreds of women and children, armed with wood axes and knives, clubs and pitch forks. The enemy rushed over the breached walls, clambering over fallen masonry as the crossbowmen of the order fired into their massed ranks, still the enemy advanced.  
As they reached the barricade the Turk’s threw themselves up the makeshift barrier with fierce abandon. Percy found himself wrestling with a towering janissary, his sword long since shattered, over the tattered banner of the order. Percy failed to notice the blade of a Corsair as it crept towards his unguarded back. Nico saw the danger to his love and leapt before the blade, taking it in the gap of his armour under the arm. Percy watched in shock and sickening horror as Nico crumpled.  
Percy let out a pained scream. Howling he tore at the janissary’s helm, tugging it off and beating the man over the head with it until his scull crunched and caved. He grasped up an abandoned pike and charged the nearest enemy, like a killing machine he slashed and stabbed the enemy; replacing pike with axe he decapitated his foes in a sweat of icy hatred and heartache.

Within moments the surrounding barricade was cleared, dead bodies pile high. Percy turned to see Nico lying slumped against the walls, staring with tear filled eyes as his lifeblood flowed away.  
Percy ran to his lover’s side and clutched the boy to his side. He grasped at his tunic and began to bind the boys wound, tears cascading from his eyes as the boys breath grew weak and his eyes slumped shut.

Percy let out a howling cry of pain that echoed across the battlefield.

 

When Percy regained his composure he stood up to see the enemy fleeing over the ruined wall and snaking across the countryside like a colony of ants. Looking down once more at the broken prone form of his love, he turned away. Hobbling to the stables he leapt upon a horse and galloped out of the city, into the countryside, after the enemy, intent only of letting his bloodlust free.  
Percy hacked and slashed at the enemy as he rode along the columns of fleeing Turk’s like a fiend from hell.

When he reached the beach where the Turk’s were escaping from, onto their fleet of ships Percy charged down to the shore, pursuing the ottoman general as he tried to escape. The man leapt aboard a ship and it pulled out to sea. Percy was left alone on the body strewn beach like a scene from the apocalypse.  
A man aboard the general’s ship lowered his musket. A puff of smoke and a sharp crack emerged. Percy felt a blinding pain in his chest. Looking down he saw a hole in his armour and blood pouring down his tunic.  
Percy fell to his knees in sheer exhaustion, his limbs and body numb with shock.  
Percy thought he saw the worried faces of his brother knights swimming in his vision as blackness descended like a veil…………blackness………peace.

 

It was a month later; Percy awoke in a chamber of stone and wood. On a soft bunk he lay.  
He looked curiously at his surroundings until he spotted Nico lounging across the bottom of his bed, staring into his eyes with a flurry of emotions Percy was too tired to comprehend.  
“I’m I in heaven” he croaked.  
Nico chuckled. “No, I’m afraid not. St Angelo”  
“Oh… so we won” Percy asked, eyes alive with sparkling glittering hope.  
“Yes, I guess we did” Nico murmured, leaning forwards to press a kiss to Percy's nose.  
The older knight, still too weak to protest, groaned as Nico kissed him again and again.  
The door opened and two knights strode in. Nico leapt back from the bed guiltily. The knights turned out to be Sir Hades and Sir Poseidon.  
“Don’t let us interrupt anything” Poseidon said cheekily.  
Hades murmured indistinct grumbles darkly.  
“Father” Nico said quietly turning to Hades.  
The old knight grasped Nico into an all-encompassing hug.  
Percy suddenly felt very alone.  
Nico turned and saw the pained look on Percy's face. He slipped from his father’s arms and laid down beside Percy, pulling the older boy into a hug.  
Poseidon turned to Hades. “Why don’t we leave these two in peace? Just know, Percy my boy that I have always and will always love you. And your brother triton, he’s the same, though he ever did tell you thus. Did you know he severely beat Luke after your exile? Well just remember that.”  
Percy’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. Triton, he knew had died at St Elmo, alongside his lover, Hades’ son Thanatos. Connor and Travis Stoll had died in each other’s arms during the final battle of Birgu and the son of Don Garcia had been killed by a Turkish knife to his heart.  
Percy broke down in Nico's eyes as he sobbed for all the men women and children who had died.  
“Your mission?” Percy muttered.  
“The order had burned the message along with the knights belongings, as was his wish, many years ago.” Nico replied.  
“Then you needn’t have come to this place of death.” Percy groaned out.  
“I wouldn’t have missed our time together for the world” Nico said quietly.  
They sat in companionable silence.  
“What now?” he whimpered, curling pitifully into Nico's lap.  
“Life goes on” Nico murmured back.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based around the great siege of malta. It is based loosely on the novel by Simon Scarrow- Sword and Scimitar. Chiron was in reality La Vallette the grand master of the Order of the Knights of Saint John. The gods were in reality the the inner council of the order. All other characters are fictional and based upon the characters created by Rick Riordan.


End file.
